Beau Monde ✅

Chapter 24

Nailah Zayed.

Maroudi, Nigeria.

'There's a cold blooded murderer in Maroudi.'

That was the headline of the News for the days that followed.

It was a given, since something like this has never happened before. I've lived in Maroudi all my life, minus the years I spent abroad studying; and I had never a scene like this that scared me for days.

The last time there was a case like this, Zainab Shamaki, the Sultan's wife was framed for murdering her old boss. Of course, that shook Maroudi—I didn't know her then, but I believed she didn't do it.

Especially considering the way the press attacked her, anyone saint would pity her. I still couldn't understand what it felt like to being her shoes until now. While we were all thinking of the effect the press had on her, and the police for cornering her, I don't think much gave thought to how she felt seeing a dead person in such a state.

I still don't know the full details, but as for me, I had never been so scared in my life.

The scene is still fresh in my mind. Every time I think back to that moment, I get sucked in it. I don't remember how I got out of the building and got in the safety of the car, but I remembered seeing Imran through my blurry mind yelling orders at the guards.

"Stop everyone from taking pictures of my wife, do you hear me?" He yelled out, the words sounding like a jumble mess through my head.

That's because even as he said that, I could still see the flashes of camera through the tinted windows of the car. Perhaps, they weren't as much as my mind was making it to be, but, at that moment, I felt like I would be blinded any moment then.

Were they trying to get a picture of my hazed state or of Imran? I wasn't sure.

It seemed as though even he knew they wouldn't stop. So, he turned around to the crowd of people there, his eyes narrowed in slits—it was the first time in my life that I was seeing him upset. No matter, I had never seen him upset before.

And even though he doesn't seem over the roof upset, for him, that's something. Not surprisingly, when he addressed the small crowd there, his tone was calm. "Delete every picture you've taken. And, if you even think of starting rumors with it, you will face the consequence." The threat rang loud; and almost immediately, they were all quick to tuck away their phones and run away.

Clearly, no one wanted to be on his bad side.

How they still have the energy to follow me all the way to the car and take pictures is beyond me. Weren't they fazed by what they saw? Here I am, on the brink of losing consciousness after witnessing that and all they cared about was getting pictures of me.

I wasn't sure what happened afterwards. Perhaps it was the exhaustion of what has been happening so far coupled with the scare I underwent a few minutes ago, but my vision blurred and this time, I ended up passing out cold.

The next time I woke up, I was alone in bed with no one in sight. I knew it had be Imran's work, and I would be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed he wasn't there. What more do I expect from him?

Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

I wonder why I even bother at this point.

I happen to be always after things that make my situation worse than ever. Because even in that state of my body feeling extremely weak—I ignored the tablet and water bottle I saw on the bedside cabinet.